


lady of the night

by mother_hearted



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: F/F, Femdom, Light Bondage, Riding Crops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29463288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_hearted/pseuds/mother_hearted
Summary: Mata Hari's room is Mata Hari's domain. Where she dances. Where she cries. Where she comes. Where Carmilla is allowed to feed, to scratch, to whisper the depraved things she'd do to Mata Hari if she'd say the word.
Relationships: Carmilla | Assassin/Mata Hari | Assassin
Kudos: 9





	lady of the night

Mata Hari relaxes into the sway of her body in the swing she's strapped into. Her thin gown glides on and off her skin, a gentle tease to counter the raw ache of the crop on the backs of her thighs. Carmilla's hand rests over her tailbone, signaling she's going to move to the meat of her ass. The edge of the crop drags tantalizing across the crease of her thigh and cheek.

"Ah..." Mata Hari breathes. Her skin is pink and hot already from her hand. Just as her body is floating, her mind is too. No hesitation when she gives her own command. "Lady of the night, work me up gently with four strikes."

Carmilla hums low in her throat and Mata Hari is kept waiting until the sting of the crop comes down. A hint of the pleasure pain she's been building up to, waiting for. Mata Hari is at the mercy of Carmilla's hands, at the mercy of the swing, except Carmilla is at the mercy of her tongue. Mata Hari's room is Mata Hari's domain. Where she dances. Where she cries. Where she comes. Where Carmilla is allowed to feed, to scratch, to whisper the depraved things she'd do to Mata Hari if she'd say the word.

The crop stings again and again and then it burns, Mata Hari crying out, Carmilla counting in her dark husky voice.

"Only two and you wail like a babe?" She's hungry. She grabs the fat of her ass and squeezes. Mata Hari drools and shakes. Yes.

"More."

"You'll take what I give you, little wench."

The name is too absurd, even for acting, Mata Hari giggles like a fool. Carmilla huffs beside her, also thrown out of scene. She stands next to her, looking like a feast in her corset and boots, nothing else save for her mask. Ah... Her thighs are wet. How lovely. Mata Hari's face is flush and she's mooning over the sight when Carmilla huffs again, grabbing her chin to make Mata Hari look up at her mask covered face. Her golden eyes glitter dangerously but they're warm. Hypnotized by Mata Hari's own honey brown.

"Don't you want to hit me again?" She says with another giggle.

"You insisted on names." Carmilla scowls. A thin blush on her cheeks. Oh dear.

"Did I embarrass you?" Mata Hari ask as Carmilla _tsks_ and crosses her arms. "I'm sorry, but I can't take being called a 'little anything' seriously."

"Then what will satisfy you? You're a horny devil just as I am, reveal your appetites in full."

At the command, Mata Hari thinks quietly, lets her carefree expression drop. In front of Carmilla, it isn't dangerous to appear as she truly feels. She bites her lower lip troubled.

"Trollop? Tramp?"

"How old fashioned."

"Don't laugh." Mata Hari pouts.

"Who's laughing?" Carmilla presses a kiss to her own knuckle and presses it to Mata Hari's cheek. Mata Hari smiles wide and squirms best she can, with how she's strapped and supported. "Stay still. No tramp of mine gets to come until I've made an example of her."

"Yes, my Lady."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in 2018 for kink bingo. Reread it again and thought "Mm, yes."
> 
> Still love these girls yesss.


End file.
